


Flowers

by thelowlysatsuma



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast references, Domestic Fluff, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, No Angst, Prinxiety - Freeform, Rated teen for swearing, flower giving, real soft hours here lads lasses and otherwise, soft fluff, soft prinxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelowlysatsuma/pseuds/thelowlysatsuma
Summary: Virgil doesn't like flowers – or maybe it would be better to say he feels a deep, passionate apathy towards them. They're convenient, sure, but is there any real use to 'em?Nah.(Virgil gave someone a flower, once.He never expected to get one in return.)





	Flowers

Virgil doesn’t like flowers.

Well, he doesn’t really… _dislike_ them. He’s just kinda apathetic towards the concept of flowers as a whole. He can just never seem to muster up the same level of enthusiasm about the damn things as, say, Patton or Thomas can.

Like, he gets why people like them. They’re pretty enough, if you’re into that kinda thing. They’re a convenient way to apologize for a fuck-up. They come in all shapes and sizes and scents, which can be.. appealing, he guesses.

And then there’s the whole romance aspect of them.

And it’s not like he’s never _thought_ about.. you know… getting a flower from someone. Picking up a bouquet as a surprise present. Plucking the petals off some poor, unsuspecting daisy as he grumbles about someone’s eyes, or their hair, or their smile. _Everyone's_ had those thoughts. They’re damn intrusive, his inner voice grouses, and Virgil is perfectly happy to leave that particular train of thought at that.

(Once, he gave someone a flower.

It was right after the whole Hogwarts houses clusterfuck – or, as Virgil privately referred to it, the one where Roman couldn’t use words and Logan was gayer than usual. He didn’t know _what_ possessed him to do it, but late that night, after the other sides had made their respective ways to bed and Remy came careening in with a crash, Virgil found himself padding softly up to Roman’s bedroom, scarlet rose clenched tight in a nervous grasp.

A few steps before arriving at the imposing white-and-gold doorway, Virgil paused abruptly in his tracks. What the hell was he doing? What kind of dumbass just- just gave a _flower_ to someone. It could be missed. It could be misinterpreted. Hell, for all he knew, Princey would take one look at it and throw the damn thing away! He released a soft hiss of pain as he realized he had bit his lip. It was a stupid idea. He should just turn back- back to the safety of the commons, of his bedroom. Of somewhere he could pretend he never thought of the dumb thing in the first place. He should go back. Go back, go back go back go _back–_

Suddenly, the soft strains of lilting violins broke his spiral. Virgil blinked, relaxing the tenseness in his shoulders and straightening up, just a bit. His breathing slowed, and his grip on the solitary flower relaxed. He knew this song, floating its way to him from within Roman’s room. He _knew_ it. What was it?

He edged closer to the door, creeping as quietly as he could with the knowledge that Roman was awake and could discover him at any moment. The violins picked up, and suddenly Virgil was hit with a sense of birds fluttering about in the crisp winter air. Of warm nights in a chilly manor. Of afternoons spent reading aloud.

Of course.

He heard Roman join in softly with the instrumental track, his voice soft and melodic against the strains of Disney.

_“There’s something sweet_

_And almost kind_

_But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined_

_And now he’s dear_

_And so unsure_

_I wonder why I didn’t see it there before”_

Beauty and the Beast. Just Virgil’s luck, really. He flinched away from the door when he heard movement, but the door didn’t open. No imposing ( ~~ _imperial_~~ ) presence came to see him loitering around Roman’s doorframe like a creep. No, it seemed that Roman was merely moving around his room. But, judging by the timing of the steps, it almost seemed like he was- like he- wait no, no way. Virgil’s eyebrows shot up, and his brow furrowed.

Roman was _dancing_.

He was _dancing around his room_ , singing to himself a lullaby that was literally about how he _used to think someone was terrible_ – mean, abrasive, cruel – and how _now, things were different_.

And then, then it was the Beast’s part of the duet, and Roman stopped singing. He sounded like he was waiting for- for _someone_ \- to join him.

( ~~ _Waiting for him._~~ )

Virgil took a deep breath, the lines on his forehead clearing themselves even as he bit down on his bottom lip in anticipation. 

He stepped forward until he arrived at the door, and he knelt down to leave the rose there. He quietly made his was back to the Commons, eyes darting around, but chest nervously, cautiously, _flutteringly_ light. 

_(Things were different.)_ ) 

So yeah, fine. Virgil doesn’t mind flowers. But he still doesn’t like them. Sue him. 

Or at least, he _didn’t_ , until one day, after everyone is riding high on a video release, and after Patton and Roman have roped Logan into setting up a karaoke machine and subsequently gotten their butts handed to them when the reserved side knocks “Guns and Ships” out of the water, and after Virgil has silently sent the video of said incident to Remy, smirking – until, on that day, Roman approaches him. 

Patton has dragged Logan to the kitchen, to help prepare popcorn – chocolate chip for Patton and Virgil, cinnamon for Logan, and some candied, god-forsaken monstrosity for Roman – and Virgil is splayed upside down across the couch, head vaguely bobbing to some tune looping in the back of his brain and staring blankly at the paused television screen. Roman, who previously had been doodling serenely on the back of one of Logan’s bookmarks, now abandons his penmanship to stand up, popping all the joints in his knees and at least two in his back in the process. Virgil glances at the display, amused, before raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry when the creative side turns to him. 

“Yeah?” 

Roman’s eyes dart around, and his tongue licks his lips nervously. Oh, great. This can’t be good. 

So, uh, Virge. I was thinking…” 

Oh god, the idiot’s trailing off at this point. Virgil presses his lips together before swinging his legs around until he’s in something resembling an upright position. 

“What’s up, Princey?” he asks, words casual but voice soft, soothing. Unintimidating. “What’s going on in that brain ‘a yours?” 

Roman’s gaze flits around a few moments more before stilling on him, and Virgil quirks what he hopes to be a reassuring half-smile, steadfastly ignoring the spark of warmth dancing across the back of his neck. 

“Well,” Roman begins, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves, “I’ve been… thinking on something, I guess, for a while now.” 

He cautiously returns Virgil’s grin. “And, uh, it took a bit of research, but I think you’ll like the result? It’s just…” 

He huffs out a sigh, crossing his arms tightly around his chest and blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. He then releases the loose hug he’s giving himself and gingerly settles down on the couch next to his counterpart. Virgil sees Roman glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and he leans back, waiting for him to continue. 

There’s a pause. Then, 

“I.. I don’t think I’ve ever _thanked_ you. For everything you’ve done for us, I mean. I mean, not just for us. For _me_ as well. Is that selfish? To care about that? Oh, whatever. Anyways, I wanted to do something nice for you. Just… You deserve it. After all- all you’ve been through, with us. And- and I don’t _really_ know if you’ll like this or not, but I thought, ‘Hey, I’ve never _seen_ Nay or European with..’ well, you’ll see with what, but, anyways, I just. You deserve a gift, you know? 

“And,” he tacks on, swelling up, “who better to give you one than a genuine prince?” 

Virgil huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he reads through the bravado to the nerves underneath. “So, Princey?” he asks over his shoulder as he stands, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders before turning to face his counterpart, grin smaller but eyes gleaming happily. “You gonna give me this thing, or what?” 

Roman’s eyes widen, and he jumps up, beaming. “Follow me!” he calls, practically bounding out of the room. Virgil rolls his eyes but scrambles to obey. 

They end up in Roman’s room: Virgil, perched on the silky red sheets and bouncing a leg absentmindedly while Roman roots around his nightstand for something. 

“Aha!” 

Virgil spares Roman a glance, only to see him twirling a shiny silver key around his finger. As Virgil shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, Roman unlocks the great glass doors that lead from his room to the Imagination. 

Virgil makes to follow, but he must have been too slow for His Royal Highness, because suddenly a warm hand is holding his, swinging his arm as Roman guides him along. Virgil shoots his counterpart an amazed, wide-eyed look, but gets only a cheeky wink in return. He huffs. Dumbass. 

They rush down a stone-studded path in the middle of a green meadow, the sun shining as it’s so wont to do in this particular subset of the Mindscape. The birds are singing, and Virgil stifles a laugh at the sunlight warming his skin as they traverse the Ghibli-like scene. He dares to squeeze the hand he’s holding as the two of them descend down a small incline, and hears a soft gasp before feeling a squeeze in return. Virgil’s shoulders relax a bit at that, a grin creeping its way onto his lips even as he marvels at the fact he just did that. 

Eventually, Roman slows to a stop. “Alright,” he says, releasing the darker side’s hand. “Close your eyes and wait here.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow at that, but his damn smile betrays him and he does as asked in surrender. 

“Oh!” he hears, and he opens one eye to see Roman hovering next to him. “And hold out your hands!” 

Virgil shakes his head, but he closes his eyes, holds out his hands, and waits. 

A year ago, he thinks, he would have never trusted Roman enough to do this. To just _stand_ here with his eyes closed. But things change. He’s not just the villain. He’s not just the downer. He’s not just ‘Anxiety’ – he’s _Virgil_. 

( _ **Things are different** , whispers a little voice in his head._) 

He feels a weight drop into his hands, and he opens his eyes to see Roman awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“So,” his counterpart begins, “I’ve never really seen you with flowers before. And I know, I know – it’s probably ‘cause they mess with your edginess or something. But I just- I wanted to give you something that could remind you of good times, and I remember that back when we did Fitting In you liked the whole ‘green and purple’ thing, so I poked around the Internet for a bit, and I found these. And I get it if they’re not your thing – I just thought they might be nice, you know, and-” 

“Roman,” Virgil interrupts, looking him square in the eye and licking his lips nervously before cracking a small smile. “They’re awesome. Thank you.” 

And he means it. The bouquet in his hands is composed of these bright violet flowers surrounded by gorgeous green leaves. Their weight is comforting. They’re exactly his style. They’re amazing. 

Virgil _loves_ them. 

And then he throws away his composure for a second, and he hugs Roman. His counterpart stiffens a little in surprise at first, but then just… _melts_ into it. 

And, as Roman’s breath ruffles his hair? As they stand there together in the sunlight, flowers held tight in Virgil’s hands? As, that night, a purple rose appears in front of Virgil’s door? 

As all that happens, a little something changes in Virgil. 

And he realizes that he may not like flowers. But, he reflects, glancing at the spot of green and purple in the vase by his bedside table? 

He might just learn to love them. 

**Author's Note:**

> first time posting to ao3: accomplished!
> 
> so yeah, aha, this is an older post from tumblr. expect quite a bit of cross-posting on here soon enough. 
> 
> by the way, roman's room design is inspired by that of the lovely ellistruggle on tumblr and instagram, and the "flower" that roman gives virgil isn't actually a flower at all – it's flowering kale! this entire goddamn oneshot was inspired by the one time there happened to be a bouquet of it at my house and i thought "well this matches virge's aesthetic nicely".
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> -suma


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